Xiyue's sword was still streaked with frost and blood when he spotted the curl of smoke ahead. The gorge walls rose steep on either side, snow falling in slow, heavy flakes. His breath fogged in the cold, but his pace never slowed.
He followed the trail of hoofprints into the narrowing pass — and froze.
They were waiting for him.
Dozens of riders in black-and-scarlet armor lined the cliffs, crossbows leveled. At the far end, Ling Han sat his horse like a shadow carved from the winter itself, Ruo Han mounted behind him, pale against the dark.
Xiyue's pulse surged, his voice carrying clear despite the wind.
Xiyue: "Release him, and I'll let you walk away."
Ling Han's answering laugh was low, edged in mockery.
Ling Han: "Walk away? You rode into my palm, Xiyue."
A whistle cut through the air. The cliffside above shifted — and with a roar, a curtain of snow and ice crashed down behind Xiyue, sealing the pass. The air filled with fine white powder, blurring the world into cold haze.
The riders tightened their circle.
Ruo Han's eyes locked on Xiyue through the veil of snow — wide, fierce, and unflinching.
Ling Han: "No men. No allies. Just you… and me. Unless, of course, you'd rather kneel now and spare us both the trouble."
Xiyue stepped forward, drawing his blade in a single, clean motion. The steel sang against the scabbard.
Xiyue: "I'll carve the trouble out of you."
Ling Han's grin sharpened.
Ling Han: "Good. I'd hate for you to make this too easy."
The riders pulled back, leaving only the two of them in the snowbound ring, Ruo Han still within reach yet impossibly far